I Hope You'll Stay
by April Rane
Summary: At the request of a dying woman, Carlisle makes a decision and a request of his own. September 1918, Chicago. Pre-Twilight, Edward's still got his green eyes...


_a/n This is probably completely horrible, but I'm bored and need something to occupy my time. It's mostly stemmed from a thought I had about something from the movie. If you listen to the commentary on the DVD, Rob Pattinson (Edward) says that Peter Facinelli (Carlisle) said something really profound in his ear during the "I'm gonna bit you and turn you into a vampire like me" scenes. (If you watch closely, you can see Peter's lips moving a little bit when he whispers.) He couldn't remember what was said, so I made something up. _

Carlisle slowly pulled the sheet over the head of another victim. There had been so many already, but he felt certain that this one would stick with him until he reached his end.

_What others cannot do..._

As he moved to wheel her away into the morgue, Carlisle cast a glance at Elizabeth Masen's son. His color was off, and his face was covered in a sheen of sweat, but he had a very nice face. He was so young—had so much to live for. Carlisle knew from what Elizabeth had said of her only child that Edward had intended to join the army to fight in the war. Now she wished she'd not fought with him so at dinner.

"He's so strong," she had whispered. She ought not have been out of bed, but nothing Carlisle could do or say could get her to rest as her son's condition deteriorated. "So stubborn. He gets it from me, you know." She had smiled weakly, and Carlisle had forced a smile in return, knowing that no matter how strong Edward was, it wouldn't be enough to fight this off.

He recalled the first time he'd met Edward, and his parents.

_The hospital was more crowded than Carlisle had ever seen it. He had just arrived, and already, he was going down a long list of patients. He had just finished writing a note on one patient's chart when he felt a hand on his arm. He had turned to find a woman, maybe in her middle or late thirties, staring up at him. She was pale, but her emerald green eyes were bright and alive._

"_Please, doctor, you must help me," she'd said, and her voice was a little weak. "My husband—he's very sick." She gestured behind her to where two men sat on a bench, side by side. The elder of the two had graying brown hair, and looked around forty. He was leaning heavily against a teenaged boy. The boy had his arm wrapped around his father's shoulder, and he turned his face away to cough hard into his hand. The boy had the same bronzed hair and green eyes as his mother, but his eyes were drooping._

"_Your son, too?" Carlisle asked, nodding to the teenager._

"_Yes. Eddie's not as sick as his father, though," she said._

_The boy grimaced, annoyed even though he was so very ill. "Mother, I've asked you a dozen times, at least. _Please_ stop calling me 'Eddie.'"_

_Carlisle smiled. "Why don't you all come with me? I'm sure there are three open beds somewhere."_

"_I don't need a bed," the woman said firmly. "I'll do fine with just a chair."_

_Carlisle could hear her heart, though. Could feel how much warmer her body was than a normal person's. She would need a bed, and soon. He ignored her comment and instead asked for her name._

"_Masen," she said. "Elizabeth Masen. My husband, Edward, and my son, Edward Junior."_

_Carlisle smiled at the teenaged boy. "Hello, Edward. I'm Dr. Cullen."_

_Young Edward nodded, but he had just lapsed into another coughing fit. Elizabeth squared her shoulders. "Come on now, dear, help me get daddy up and into a bed."_

_Edward started to get to his feet, but his eyes slid out of focus and he sat back down, moaning. Elizabeth quickly stepped to her son's side, helping him to his feet. She reached up—she had to be almost a foot shorter than him—and brushed his bronze hair from his face. She turned to Carlisle._

"_If you can take my husband, I can help Eddie—"_

"_Mother, please don't call me that." Even so ill, Edward was still awake enough to tease his mother, and he nudged her lightly with his elbow._

_Once the little family was situated, Carlisle watched from another bed as Elizabeth tended to her husband and son._

"_Mother." Edward's voice was weak and pleading. "Please. Let the doctors do that. You need rest, too."_

"_I'll do no such thing." Elizabeth dabbed at her husband's face with a cool cloth, turning her face away from her son as she began to cough._

_Carlisle quickly made his way back to her. "Mrs. Masen, I have to ask that you please get some rest. We have nurses for—" _

"_You don't have enough nurses, though," she said stubbornly, but she allowed herself to be led into the bed between her son's and her husband's. It wasn't long until she fell into a deep sleep._

_Carlisle glanced up to find Edward, weak with fever but still awake, staring at him. _

"_Please," he whispered. "Please don't let anything bad happen to her." His eyes finally closed._

_That night, Elizabeth became a widow._

Carlisle was snapped back to the present by the sound of Elizabeth's gurney hitting the morgue doors. Just two days ago, she'd been awake and chatting with him. Earlier that evening, her condition had suddenly and rapidly deteriorated. It had hurt more than usual to watch as Elizabeth became more and more ill. Edward had not opened his eyes all night, his lips dry and cracked, his face covered in sweat. Elizabeth had been staring at her son from her bed when Carlisle came to check up on her for what he knew would be the last time. He'd not gotten two words out before she grasped his icy hand and pulled herself up to stare at him with penetrating eyes.

"What others cannot do," she had rasped, "that is what you must do for my Edward."

Carlisle nodded slowly. "I'll do what I can."

"Promise me!" she gasped.

He'd promised. So now what?

For two hours, Carlisle sat at Edwards side, watching the boy's health steadily decline. Watching him die.

_What others cannot do..._

He was so still, he could be mistaken for dead.

Carlisle was moving before his brain consciously gave the command. He quickly tossed a sheet over Edward and wheeled him back to the morgue. He focused, trying to remember how he had become a vampire. Bite to the neck...

The morgue was empty of the living, and it would be all too easy for Carlisle to sneak Edward out the back door. Before lifting him from the bed, Carlisle gazed down at Edward for another minute. The boy's eyelids fluttered and opened breifly. He stared up at Carlisle, and his eyes were dull.

"My mother's dead, isn't she?" he asked, his voice rough and quiet.

Carlisle nodded sadly. "I'm sorry, son." _Son._

Edward closed his eyes again, and Carlisle made up his mind. He had to act quickly, before Edward got any sicker. Carefully, he lifted Edward off the table and carried him out the back door.

The doors to his home were locked, as usual, but Carlisle made his way in through a window. Quick as a flash, he made his way to the parlor and put Edward down on the couch. He had to act now—the boy's heart was near to giving out.

Carlisle took a deep breath and bent low over Edward. At that moment, his eyes fluttered again. They were out of focus, and Carlisle reached down and took the boy's hand.

"I will never replace your father," he said softly as he leaned in, "but I've always wanted a son. I hope you'll stay."

Then he bit down, and Edward Masen died.


End file.
